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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30103407">Actions speak louder (but words'll have to do)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakedAppleSauce/pseuds/BakedAppleSauce'>BakedAppleSauce</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, M/M, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, the most established of established relationships, they miss each other ok, what are they supposed to do</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:21:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,645</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30103407</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakedAppleSauce/pseuds/BakedAppleSauce</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><em>“Hello,” Nicky says. “Did I wake you?”<br/><br/>“Not in t’slightest,” Joe mutters, voice sleep-rough and disoriented in a way that means that yes, Nicky absolutely did wake him. “...n’even if you did, which you didn’t… it would not matter.”</em><br/><br/>In which there is a late-night phone call.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>73</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>458</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Actions speak louder (but words'll have to do)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hello,” Nicky says. “Did I wake you?” </p><p>“Not in t’slightest,” Joe mutters, voice sleep-rough and disoriented in a way that means that yes, Nicky absolutely <em> did </em> wake him. “...n’even if you did, which you didn’t… it would not matter.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Nicky says and means it, even though he can’t help but smile, happiness seeping like warmth through his chest at the sound of Joe’s voice.</p><p>“Don’t be,” Joe says, seeming more alert by the second. There is some rustling, indicating that he’s moving around, maybe sitting up. “This is a pleasant surprise. Hello, my heart.”</p><p>“Sleeping alright, I see? That’s good.”</p><p>“... I’d be sleeping much better if you were here by my side,” Joe says immediately, easily. There’s no resignation, it’s a simple statement of facts, like Nicky might need the reminder. Which he doesn’t but that doesn’t mean it isn’t nice to hear.</p><p>“Yes…” Nicky murmurs, because well… they’re in the same boat. It’s not like he feels differently about this. The only reason he’s calling in the first place is because <em> he </em> had trouble falling asleep. “Me, too.” </p><p>Doesn’t say <em> I miss you </em> out loud, because there would be no point, it’s a given anyway. There is a moment of silence, both of them quietly reveling in the fact that they’re speaking to each other. </p><p>“Sooooo,” Joe says then, audibly smiling, in a sing-song kind of voice that means he’s not really serious about it. “How does this usually go? What are you wearing, I believe is the question I’m supposed to ask here.”</p><p>Nicky snorts. </p><p>“Nothing,” he says dryly and hears Joe chuckle, because they both know it’s not true. “You?” </p><p>“Oh, nothing as well.” </p><p>
  <em> “Really.” </em>
</p><p>“Absolutely.”</p><p>“Even though you’re in the middle of a snowstorm?”</p><p>“Worst of it has been over for hours," Joe says, then adds, realizing, "Did you check our weather again?” </p><p>“Maybe I did.”</p><p>“Nicky…”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“I wish you wouldn’t worry so much.”</p><p>“I’m not worried,” Nicky lies without a second thought, probably too quickly to sound even remotely convincing, even to people who aren’t Joe. “Would I be naked in bed if I was worried?”</p><p>Joe laughs again, softer this time, sounding utterly fond. It feels like a quiet caress, almost like a physical sensation, and all of a sudden Nicky misses him so fiercely his heart aches with it. Can picture it perfectly: The way his face would soften and his eyes would light up, crinkling at the corners. What it would feel like if he was right here in this bed where he belongs, plastered against Nicky’s back, in his arms like he should be, safe and warm. </p><p>“I should let you go back to sleep…” Nicky says, only half-serious about it, even though it’s true, he probably should. </p><p>“Don’t you dare leave me like this,” Joe scolds, sounding just a bit too serious to actually be serious about it. He’s furrowing his brow, Nicky just knows it. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway, especially not now, knowing you’re awake and all by yourself, feeling lonely and neglected…”</p><p>Nicky laughs again, can’t help himself. “What on earth gives you the impression I’m feeling neglected-”</p><p><em> “Terribly </em> neglected,” Joe continues dramatically, speaking right over him. “Oh, it is so very obvious!”</p><p>“It is?” Nicky says, pretending to be shocked. </p><p>“Yes,” Joe says, decisive.</p><p>“Fine,” Nicky concedes with a smile. “Maybe a bit. I miss you.”</p><p>There is a deep, wistful sigh on the other end of the line, one that makes him feel a pang of guilt, because <em> Joe </em> is bound to feel guilty now – for being too far away and not being able to do anything about it within the next two minutes. Both of them feeling bad for making the other one feel anything but deliriously happy, Nicky thinks. It’s patently ridiculous.</p><p>“I have to admit,” Joe continues. “There was a moment today I slipped and fell on the ice, and maybe I <em> was </em>somewhat glad you weren’t there to witness that particular display.”</p><p>Nicky snickers. “Now <em> that </em> I’d have liked to see,” he says. “I’m devastated I missed it.”</p><p>“I bet you are.”</p><p>“I’m sure it was a very graceful fall.”</p><p>“Ohhhh yes,” Joe says sarcastically. “Most elegant. I’m sure it looked like I did it on purpose.”</p><p>There is a moment of content, companionable silence. Nicky lies there, looking up at the dark ceiling, reveling in the familiar warmth spreading through his chest. </p><p>“I’m sure,” he echos after a few moments just to say something, not exactly trying to pick up the thread of conversation again. His free hand is resting on his thigh on top of the blanket, innocuous; he digs his fingers in just to feel it, five points of faint connection. Wonders how dark Joe’s room might be right now. Wonders if there are any interesting shadows to look at.</p><p>(There was a period of time, probably more than a few decades ago now, when Joe exclusively painted shadows for a little while – with charcoal, but also with oil paint, canvas after canvas covered in endless variations of grey, the occasional interruption of white or black, miraculously never boring. For some reason, the memory makes him miss Joe even more.)</p><p>Out loud he says, “Do you know how much longer...?”</p><p>“Should be done by the end of the week,” Joe says. “God willing.”</p><p>“That’s good.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>His hand flexes without permission, fingers digging into his thigh again. He carefully prods the idea inside his own head, weighing the pros and cons, trying to figure out if he really wants to make a suggestion or not. It’s late and Joe could probably use the rest. On the other hand… well. Nicky <em> misses </em> him, simple as that, which isn’t much of an argument, but at the same time, it’s the only thing that matters anyway.</p><p>He rubs a palm up and down his thigh a few times, up and down, up and down. Considers. It’s the only thing he can seem to think of, all of a sudden – the idea nothing but a half-formed possibility, hovering undecided at the edge of his mind. He works his arm underneath the blanket, hand curling over his thigh again, tips of his fingers touching actual skin this time around. For some reason, it feels ridiculously suggestive, even though it’s dark and he’s not doing anything.</p><p>There’s a long, shivery exhale at the mere thought of touching himself that Joe is bound to notice. </p><p>Predictably, he says, “What are you doing?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Nicky murmurs. It feels almost scandalous, like he might get away with something, here; even though he isn’t, of course, because it’s <em> Joe </em> and there are no secrets between them, and he’s not even doing anything, not yet, he’s only thinking about it. </p><p>“Nothing, hmm?” Joe says knowingly, smile evident in his tone. </p><p>“Nothing,” Nicky repeats on autopilot, and then he thinks, <em> fuck it, </em> and moves his hand, carefully cups himself over his underwear, legs falling open just a bit. “I’m thinking of you, that is all.” </p><p>He’s well aware that his voice is going to give him away; maybe not to a stranger, but to Joe it will be obvious what is going on. His dick is starting to take notice, slowly starting to harden under the attention, filling out against his palm. He’s teasing himself, still not sure whether he actually wants this to go anywhere or not.</p><p>“Hmm,” Joe’s voice says again, very quietly, not fooled for even a second, because… well. Not the first time they’ve reached this particular point. “Feel good?”</p><p>“Yes,” Nicky mutters. There’s a familiar longing in his chest, lodged right behind his ribs, feeling lonely for no reason at all. Can’t help but add, “Have I mentioned yet how much I’d prefer it if you were here right now?”</p><p>Joe huffs a laugh. “You have, but I’ll never tire of hearing it anyway. Are you touching yourself?”</p><p>“Not quite,” Nicky says. He’s stroking himself over the fabric, which feels deliciously muted. “I’m… I didn’t take anything off yet.”</p><p>He half-expects Joe to teasingly point out the obvious discrepancy,<em> I was given the impression you were naked already? </em> but he doesn’t. There is a moment of contemplative silence, and then Joe says, “Are you hard yet?” in that low, gravely tone that means he’s <em> interested, </em> the one that always, <em> always </em>manages to make arousal pool low in Nicky’s belly, every single time without fail.</p><p>“Almost,” he admits, even though it’s not true, he’s already there, he’s-  “I’m… yes.”</p><p>"This is downright cruel," Joe mutters bitterly, sounding like he’s mostly talking to himself, and Nicky laughs again, caught off guard. </p><p>“My apologies,” he says. “Would you like me to stop?”</p><p>“Absolutely not,” Joe says immediately, no hesitation at all. “I shall never forgive you. Are you on your back?” </p><p>“Yes,” Nicky says. Spreads his legs a bit more as if to prove his point, put on a bit of a show for nobody but himself, because Joe obviously can’t see him. It somehow still feels like he’s doing it exclusively for him – <em> wants </em> to be on display because Joe deserves it, Joe would enjoy it if he were here. </p><p>On a whim, he wedges the phone between his shoulder and his cheek, hooks both thumbs underneath the elastic of his boxers, suddenly impatient, and then stops for a second – again, almost like he’s putting on a show, for no real reason at all. His dick gives a hopeful little twitch. </p><p>“You could ask me to take off my underwear.”</p><p>“Would you like to?” Joe says, clearly amused at being told what to do.</p><p>“Well, I'm not doing this by myself," Nicky says. “So the real question here is, would <em> you </em> like me to?”</p><p>“I can honestly say there isn’t a single thing I’d like more,” Joe says easily.</p><p>“You should join me,” Nicky says. He’s stroking himself, both thumbs moving back and forth over the skin just underneath the elastic, and he <em> is </em> definitely turned on now, dick a hard and insistent weight, impossible to ignore. </p><p>“See, I would love to,” Joe says, teasing, because he is so very clearly not serious about it, “But as you already mentioned, we've got a terrible snowstorm raging outside, so…” </p><p>Nicky pulls one hand out and gently cups himself again, arousal shivering through him, dick practically twitching against his palm at the prospect of touch, and allows himself a low noise – not quite a moan, but close. It is entirely unambiguous. </p><p>“...that feel good?” Joe says again, a lot more breathless all of a sudden, and he knows Nicky <em> so well, </em> it’s unbearable that he isn’t actually here to contribute anything. </p><p>“Yes,” Nicky says, a lot more breathless himself as well.</p><p>“Yes, alright,” Joe says. “That was an excellent point well made, consider me convinced.” </p><p>Nicky can hear rustling on his end, and then he’s too busy kicking his own boxers off to pay much attention for a moment or two, and then there is low hum that signals Joe is back on the line with him. </p><p>“So?” he says. “Are you cold?” </p><p>“Oh, I’m positively freezing,” Joe says solemnly. “You better describe to me exactly what you're doing right now.”</p><p>“Nothing”, Nicky says again, which is another obvious lie, because he’s taken himself in hand, <em> finally, </em> fisting his own erection, breath hitching when he tightens his grip. Knows Joe would do all of the talking, if Nicky asked him to. He usually does anyway,  a lot of the time, because he enjoys it and he’s good at it too, but tonight he seems content to take his cues. Probably <em> is </em> tired, Nicky thinks, filing that information away for later. </p><p>“If you were here,” he says, and he’s <em> not </em> good at this, doesn’t even remotely compare to Joe and his way with words on a good day, but that’s not what matters. “We’d probably look perfectly innocent,” and he’s not quite sure why he’s decided to start like this, why his brain wants to focus on <em> this </em> detail in particular. </p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Yes,” Nicky says, and he can imagine it perfectly, the both of them curled up together underneath the blanket, slowly getting each other all worked up – and he <em> would </em>take his time, just as he is now, listen to Joe joke around, both of them not even bothering to undress fully, if the temperature was too unforgiving, just naked and vulnerable where it counts – and this is a sorry substitute, but it'll have to do. “We’d be under the covers, nobody would even suspect a thing.” </p><p>He can hear Joe inhale deeply on the other end, then exhale; strokes his dick at the sound of it, up and down, rocking into his own grip.  </p><p>“Are you touching yourself?”</p><p>“Yes,” Joe says and then, before Nicky can even ask, he adds, “Nobody would even suspect a thing, hm?” which is basically a prompt to keep going.</p><p>“No,” Nicky says, which is nonsense, but that doesn’t matter as far as the fantasy is concerned. He swallows heavily, spit collecting in his mouth. “Especially not once I started going down on you.” </p><p>He’s been thinking about it all day, if he’s perfectly honest, like somebody who might have a craving for a certain kind of food or for listening to a song stuck in their head – Joe’s beautiful dick in his mouth, the way he’d have to relax his throat, the way Joe’s thighs would feel under his hands, coming up around his ears. </p><p>“No?” Joe says.</p><p>“No,” Nicky says. “People would think you are alone in bed,” and he doesn’t even know which people he’s talking about, who they could possibly be, what kind of strange scenario he’s conjuring here, but it doesn’t matter anyway. Joe likes the idea of it, not the spectators so much as the need to be quiet, having to be <em> good </em> even as he’s taken to pieces, and Nicky loves how much it turns him on. He’ll be the first to admit that he <em> loves </em> getting fucked, but few things compare to Joe trying to keep it down when there are people in the next room and he’s on the receiving end. It’s the perfect loop – the idea of having to keep quiet turns him on so much it becomes <em> harder </em> to keep quiet.</p><p>“So you, you’d have to keep up appearances,” and what is he even <em> saying, </em> Nicky thinks, amused at himself, why does he sound formal of all things, he’s so bad at this. <em> “I </em>wouldn’t, of course, because I’d be too busy sucking you off.” Then he can’t help but add, “Fuck, I want that, you have no idea, I couldn’t stop thinking about it all evening, I love the way you taste-”</p><p>“I want you to,” Joe says urgently, stumbling over the words a bit. “I, I’m- yes. If you were here, I’d want you between my legs, you absolutely should- like I could ever deny you anything-”</p><p>“I mean, you really shouldn’t,” Nicky says. It doesn’t really feel like he’s saying anything all that erotic, to be perfectly honest, he’s just saying… <em> things, </em> sentence after ordinary sentence, nothing to write home about, but he’s hot all over anyway, reveling in the hoarseness of Joe’s voice, how affected he seems, as he’s stroking himself at a steady pace, legs shaking a bit with how turned on he feels. “I… <em> God, </em> I’d love to put my mouth on you right now, I would make it so good-” </p><p>Which is true, he would, there’s nothing else he’d rather do right about now – wouldn’t even care what they do, really, it’s not like any of the specifics truly matter. </p><p>“You’d probably get yourself all worked up against the mattress,” Joe murmurs, and he’s definitely not saying it just for Nicky’s benefit. “Always takes you forever to come like that,” which is absolutely true and still manages to catch Nicky off guard, because… <em> fuck.  </em></p><p>“I know,” Nicky moans, hips twitching helplessly as he speeds up his hand. “God, I <em>know,</em> it’d be- I’d be so focused on getting you off I wouldn’t even really pay attention- just get myself all worked up and trying to pass it all on to you, suck you harder the more I wanted to get off and couldn’t-”</p><p>“Fuck,” Joe mutters, voice going up at the end, not quite a whine but close, followed by a shivery inhale. If Nicky listens closely, he can hear the sound of skin on skin, Joe working himself. God, he thinks, the sight he must make – his flushed face, his closed eyes. His elegant hand wrapped around his beautiful dick- </p><p>“Slow down,” Nicky tells him. </p><p>“Nicolo,” Joe groans in protest.</p><p>“Keep going,” Nicky says. “But slow down. Just the way you like it.” </p><p>Joe is actually panting now. </p><p>“Don’t move your hand,” Nicky murmurs. “Keep it still, let your hips do all the work.” </p><p>“Nico, please…” Joe says, and he <em> is </em> whining now, the good kind, and then he doesn’t say anything for a while, just breathing hard. </p><p>“Stop,” Nicky says eventually, feeling vicious all of a sudden. </p><p>Joe whimpers. </p><p>“Please,” he says. “Please, I’m <em> so </em> close-” </p><p>“Tell me,” Nicky says. “What it feels like. Tell me everything.” </p><p>“I’m…” Joe says. “I’m so… you <em> know </em> what I look like, when I get like this. Got my legs spread and, a-and I’m dying to move, I want to fuck my fist, I’m… so fucking hard, I’m just… holding myself-”</p><p>“Cup your balls,” Nicky says. “Push one finger against your hole, you know how you like it. Spread your legs as far as they can go.”</p><p><em> “Fuck,” </em>Joe says empathically. </p><p>“How does that feel?”</p><p>“Good!” Joe says, almost petulant about it. “What do you <em> think, </em> it’s good… I’m… oh, please, I’m so-”</p><p>Nicky allows himself one completely selfish, shivering moment, considering not to let him come at all, tell him to stop and go to bed, but there is real desperation in his voice, and he’s so far away without Nicky to hold him, calm him down, tell him it’s alright. It’s a tragedy. </p><p>“Yes,” he manages. “Yes, go for it, let me hear you.” </p><p>Joe makes a low, grateful noise, Nicky can hear him shift around and then he’s moaning shamelessly – and he wasn't exaggerating, Nicky thinks, dazed, he really must have been close, because he’s clearly about to come without Nicky there to appreciate any of it, which is his God-given right on this earth, Joe’s about to- </p><p>“Oh, <em> fuck,” </em> Nicky groans, caught completely by surprise, and then he’s cluchting at the phone and his own dick at the same time, spilling all over his fist, his own orgasm pulsing through him unexpectedly and delicoiusly slowly. He shudders at the sounds of pleasure Joe is making, hips rocking helplessly; pushes his dick in and out of his own grip, again and again and again, getting more slippery with each repetition, caught up in one seemingly unending, sinuous wave. </p><p><em> “I love you,” </em> Joe pants. Nicky doesn’t even have the wherewithal to parse which language he’s slipped into, <em> “I love you more than anything-” </em>and suddenly Nicky wishes he could kiss him so fiercely he has to bite down on his own bottom lip until it hurts to make it bearable.  </p><p>In the aftermath they lie there, just breathing together over the phone. Nicky tries very hard not to feel guilty about how late it must be, tries not to calculate the time difference in his head.</p><p>Joe, even in the afterglow, appears to sense something.</p><p>“Nicolo?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Are you alright?”</p><p>“Of course I am.”</p><p>“In that case, it must be somebody else I can hear thinking loudly at me over the phone,” Joe says. He sounds like he’s smiling.</p><p>“Ohh, yes,” Nicky says. “That must be my other husband. You know, the spare one I keep around for situations like this.”</p><p>“Situations like my absence?” Joe says, not missing a beat, post-coital giddiness making itself known, even though he still seems a bit out of breath. “Or situations like… having to hold the phone and complete another task at the same time, because I know how hard that can be, my poor Nicolo, having to <em> multitask-” </em></p><p>“Remind me,” Nicky says. “Which one of us fell on the ice today? Does it count as multitasking if there are two legs involved, or…”</p><p>Joe starts to laugh. “I slipped!” he protests, but there is no heat behind it. </p><p>“I’m sure you did.”</p><p>“Well,” Joe says dramatically. “Next you are going to tell me this would have <em> never </em> happened to your spare husband. I see how it is. I can read between the lines.”</p><p>Nicky realizes he has started to smile without even noticing it. </p><p>“I love you,” he murmurs. “Also, you should probably go to sleep.”</p><p>“Deflection and deceit,” Joe says with a sad sigh. “Now you just want to get rid of me.”</p><p>“That is exactly what I’m trying to do here, yes,” Nicky says sarcastically. </p><p>“I see how it is,” Joe says again. “My poor heart… broken. How am I supposed to sleep now, after being so cruelly cast aside, huh? Tell me!” </p><p>“I’d suggest you put the phone away and close your eyes.”</p><p>“Impossible.”</p><p>“You should try.”</p><p>“Well,” Joe says. “If I absolutely <em> have </em> to, allow me to wish you and your spare husband a good night. I love you more than the moon itself, but I have to admit, I’m having mixed feelings about him.”</p><p>“I’ll make sure to pass it on,” Nicky says. By now he’s smiling so hard it feels like his face hurts a bit. </p><p>“How generous.”</p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>“Love you too. Good night.”</p><p>“Good night and sleep well,” Nicky says and then makes an executive decision to hang up first, because Joe really needs his rest. </p><p>He’s still smiling a little while later, when he finally falls asleep.  </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Nicky secretly thinking "oh <em>God</em> I'm terrible at this dirty talk-thing" while Joe is just... genuinely too busy having the time of his life to even notice is just funny to me, ok. (Also, something about them just screams PHONE! to me, apparently. I don't know why lmao.)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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